Hi, I’m Logan Wilder

I’m Logan Wilder, 38 years old, and I live a nomadic lifestyle with my wife in an old camper van we turned into our tiny rolling home. 

If I had to introduce myself with three adjectives, I’d say friendly, curious, and adventurous, and those three words pretty much explain why I’m rarely satisfied staying in one place for too long. 

I’m the kind of person who chats with strangers in line at a small-town coffee shop, asks a local what dish I absolutely have to try, and then ends up taking a detour because someone mentions a quiet lake or a road nobody takes.

This blog is my way of documenting the real version of life on the road. Not the highlight reel, the real one. 

The one where the sunrise is gorgeous, but the van battery also decides to act up at the same time. The one where you wake up in the desert and the world is silent, then you spend the next hour looking for your lost lighter because you just want to make coffee. The one where you feel alive again in a way you forgot was possible.

Life Before the Road

Three years ago, I was living in Los Angeles, renting a house and working in IT. On the surface, it was a solid life. The job paid well, the city offered endless options, and everything looked stable enough to last for decades if I let it. 

Inside, though, the pace slowly wore me down. Work followed me everywhere, even when I was technically off the clock. Screens filled my days, deadlines shaped my weeks, and stress became something I carried without questioning anymore.

Over time, a quiet discomfort settled in. Even after long days, there was a strange sense that I wasn’t fully present in my own life. I was earning well, staying busy, and doing what made sense, yet something felt unfinished. 

The question that kept resurfacing wasn’t dramatic or sudden. It showed up gradually, during late evenings and quiet moments, asking why so much energy was being poured into a life that felt increasingly narrow.

Money provided safety, but it also came with a constant cost. Living in Los Angeles meant measuring everything in numbers, from rent to groceries to future plans, and that pressure made the idea of stepping away feel reckless. 

I wasn’t only thinking about myself. My wife valued stability, and understandably so. Letting go of a high-paying job felt like risking everything we had built, and fear kept us moving in familiar circles longer than we wanted to admit.

The Inspiration That Lit the Spark

One year later, something changed. I started watching travel videos on YouTube, and I kept coming back to a Vietnamese YouTuber named Khoai Lang Thang. 

His videos weren’t about showing off luxury travel or trying to look perfect. They were about people, places, simple meals, quiet mornings, and real curiosity. He could walk into a small village or a street market, and instead of acting like a tourist, he acted like a respectful guest. Watching him did something to me that I didn’t expect.

Through those videos, a different rhythm of life began to feel possible. It wasn’t about escaping responsibility, but about redefining what responsibility could look like. 

The idea that life could be simpler without being empty slowly replaced the belief that comfort only comes from predictability. Instead of needing a perfect plan or guaranteed outcome, it became clear that movement itself could be a teacher, and that waiting for certainty often means waiting forever.

Those thoughts led to difficult but honest conversations with my wife. The desire for something quieter, more intentional, and closer to nature had been building for a long time, and once it was spoken out loud, it no longer felt like a passing thought.

Buying the Van and Starting Over

We bought an old van. It had issues with a smell that took a while to get rid of. The first time we slept in the van, I barely slept at all. Every sound outside felt louder, but I also remember waking up early and realizing something: I didn’t feel dread. I didn’t feel that familiar “Monday” weight. I felt… quiet. And it was the good kind of quiet.

We drove the California coast, stopping in places where the ocean looks endless and the air smells like salt and eucalyptus. We camped near Big Sur, where the cliffs make you feel small in the best way. We spent time in Joshua Tree, where the desert at night feels like another planet, and the stars look close enough to touch. We crossed into Arizona, driving through wide open stretches that teach you patience and presence because there’s nowhere to rush to. We spent time in Utah, surrounded by red rock landscapes that look like paintings, and mornings that begin with cold air and warm coffee.

Why I Started This Blog

I started this blog for people who are quietly asking themselves the same question I asked in LA. People. People who feel pulled toward travel, simplicity, or a slower kind of life, but don’t know where to start.

Here’s what you can expect from me here:

I’ll share the real version of the nomadic lifestyle, the wins and the messy parts. I’ll share the places we go, the routes we take, the small towns that surprised us, and the little lessons you only learn when you live out of a van. I’ll also share the mindset shifts that helped me go from fear to action, because I know what it feels like to want change but feel trapped by uncertainty.

A Little Encouragement From Me to You

If you’re reading this and you feel stuck, I want you to know something. You don’t have to change your whole life overnight or quit your job tomorrow, you can start taking small steps. You can start exploring your own version of freedom.

If you’ve ever felt like life is passing while you’re busy being responsible, I get it. I lived that. And I’m proof that a different path can be real, even when you’re scared at first.

So welcome here. I’m glad you found this corner of the internet.